


Dúlamán

by orphan_account



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Epic Bromance, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, Nothing is Certain, Violence, Vomit, Work In Progress, rated mature for safety, think of every chapter as going under heavy construction at every waking moment :), this fic is completely open to sudden changes in the midst of it bc it's a wip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hiccup's life lies on a title he no longer owns, a village that hates him, and a father who is more loyal to his people than his family.And the only help he's got is a disabled dragon that he's locked up with.Great. Another classic Hiccup vs All The Odds
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Dúlamán

**Author's Note:**

> do not ask me how i entered fanfic of this world or series in particular, i do not know the answer myself. it has been a while since i've written tho, and i've lost inspo for my other stuff, so i'm hoping maybe this will help. it's nice to write again :D

Hiccup may the very opposite of a Viking in many ways, from his stature to his build; his favour towards wit rather than brawn and his comparatively poor fighting skills. He's good in a smithy, and his reflexes are fantastic from years of 'wrong place wrong time' events that have left him with hundreds of tiny little scars all around his body -- something his dad actually seemed to appreciate, proof that his whelp was just as hardy as every other Viking child. However, if Hiccup had only one trait he could lord over his peers, it was his hardy stomach. 

Be it nature or nurture, Hiccup rarely vomits for any reason whatsoever. His father's godawful cooking, for example: He used to scarf it down without complaint, stomach never giving up the burnt contents. He's also spent hours with Gobber, who viewed bathing as a pastime he rarely had the patience for, and never once faltered from how pungent his stench could become after a couple of hours sweating by the forge. It was one of his few talents that he actually felt pride for, one he could actively bring up in conversation, one that actually got people _looking_ at him. Bizarre, maybe, to someone unaccustomed to Viking culture, but it really was his strong stomach that was the most Viking thing about such an _un_ -Vikingly Hiccup. 

So when Hiccup woke up, with the taste of vomit in his mouth, the smell of sick rising in the air as his body was gentle rolled by a force that couldn't be anything but the roiling and coiling sea-

That's when he knew something bad had happened. 

He has never been sea sick in his entire life but the intensive nausea he feels is no illusion. He lets out a weak groan, heavy eye lids working against him as he slowly comes to awareness. He's definitely on a boat, and _definitely_ on the floor of said boat as his world tilts up and down rhythmically until he has to shut his eyes and let his head thump back to the wood floor with a groan, gagging. 

"Breathe," he mutters to himself, trying to force his body to roll onto his front. His entire body fees like an energetic Terrible Terror had wriggled beneath his skin and started bouncing about -- every limb weak and shaky. "Just breathe, Hiccup, c'mon..."

Blinking his eyes open, and noticing how close his body is to rolling into a small puddle of puke, he grimaces and tries to bring his hands up to move his hands up and away, because his feet aren't co-operating. 

Staring at the heavy manacles encompassing his wrists, and the chain that connected to a similar pair of cuffs clasped tight around his ankles, Hiccup quickly realises why. 

_What in Hel?_ He thinks, disbelieving. He tries to flex his wrists, believing them to an illusion, but instead pain radiates up his arm as his skin is dragged against the tight restraints. _Aw Hel no, this has got to just be some weird dream, maybe I drank one of Goth's off-date brews again-_

The chains clank this time as he heaves himself onto his front, wrists pressed uncomfortably against his lower stomach as he put his remaining strength into getting himself up and off the floor. Bile rises in his throat at the sudden movements, Hiccup's body dropping as suddenly to the floor as it got it up, dry heaving until his eyes are damp with unshed tears. The manacles allow little room for freedom, his wrists only given maybe fifteen centimetres between each other before it draws tight. He has no idea how long the chain connecting to his feet is, but it mustn't be anything generous because it's already strung tight from his bowed position as he struggles not to upheave whatever remains of his breakfast. 

It's another five minutes of struggling, and exercising years of patience born from living with Stoick the Stubborn, as he'd almost become known, before he makes it to his feet. He's sweating and swaying with the effort, vision swimming in an out of focus, but he's upright and leaning against one of the ship walls -- not a great position but better than being a lump on the floor. Small victories, right?

"Gods," Hiccup mutters to himself, already growing irritated by his restraints, sore and nauseous. "Could this get any worse?"

He's been drugged, clearly. He wouldn't have puked so much, or had such shaky vision if he hadn't been. He's clearly been kidnapped too, because as sadistic as the twins are, they're also incredibly stupid. And he's gotten plenty of weird visions from experimenting with Gothi's weird potions but they're usually _weird-_ weird, like seeing his father dressed as a maiden or witnessing the sky turn yellow and the grass grow feet; they're never _scary_ -weird, such as being kidnapped and trapped on an unfamiliar ship in the middle the ocean with no memory of the last day. 

Hiccup has no memory of anything -- he knows who he is, and he knows his past, but he does not remember how he ended up being kidnapped, or how they did it, or who did it. And he can't think of any reason _why_ either.

"Great. Add Hiccup the Useless _and_ Forgetful to the title." He starts to slowly shuffle his way along the wall, calloused fingers cataloguing what his hazy eyes can't quite focus on yet, still muttering darkly to himself. "The more titles the more respect, right? I bet they're gonna _love_ this one, throw in a little 'weak', a bit of 'forgetful', maybe some of the deceptive 'fantastical' and see if all my screw-up get me a bit of respect. A _true_ Viking never stops, and I clearly can't stop being a Hiccup, so-"

Rambling is his forte. He mutters while he works, he babbles when he's excited, he yammers on and on when he's nervous -- like how he did when he tried to formally ask Astrid for courtship when he was fifteen, or how he was choking out prayers and hyperventilating simultaneously during his final task for dragon training. By Thor, he wouldn't stop screaming in garbled shouts and half sentences when they had to amputate his left leg-

Hiccup pauses. 

He squints down to his fake leg, it finally just occurring to him that it's still _attached_. 

"...the Hel?"

Surely they didn't miss it, did they? He's wearing shoes, yes, because he doesn't particularly like bring attention to the physical representation of how poor of a dragon-fighting Viking he is, but he's still missing flesh and bone up to his _knee_ , part of the metal is visible for the gods' sake. He has the sudden thought that maybe they didn't think him enough of a threat to remove the prosthetic, like they needed to _give_ him some advantage to go against them, thought of him as pitiable without it, fucking ableists he'll show them he can fight without a leg. Hel, he'll fight _with_ the leg, use it as the weapon it could be, break their noses with his fake knee and see their faces _then, take that you son of a-_

"Focus," he hisses to himself, and tamps the anger down. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, let's just get out of here."

They're probably not Vikings, because the navy back on Berk has no below-deck storage,; only the _really_ rich villages can afford to use ships like these on the regular, and Berk prefers to be well defended instead of well travelled. He's locked in some kind of storage room judging by the crates and boxes he can see scattered about; it's small, maybe eight steps long and five steps wide. Sealed boxes and barrels line the walls, no loose lids for him to see in to them, and there's no gaps in the wood for him to peek out of. Were it not for the dim light of the lamp bouncing on a hook from the ceiling, he wouldn't be able to see at all. _Not that I really want to look out right now_ , he thinks as the boat rocks under a particularly aggressive wave, sending him stumbling back into the centre of the room where he slips on his own vomit and crashes to the floor with a yelp. His head cracks against the floor and he moans, jerking his hands up to cover his mouth as bile rushes up his throat only to choke on it in surprise when the forgotten chains prevent his hands from moving, scratching harshly against the softer flesh on his wrists. 

He stares dazedly at the closed door a few feet away, a disgusting mixture of drool and bile dripping from his mouth and down his cheek as he curls up on his side, the image of 'pathetic'. Everything hurts and he wants to sleep until it stops being this way.

And of course, with perfect timing, the door finally opens. 

"Morning princess," a man, clearly a pirate for hire, coos and hoists Hiccup up by yanking on his wrists with such strength that he's pulled to his feet in an instant, arms crying out from the force. He's a sheer wall of muscle covered by a deceptive layer of fat, the exact same build as his father. His skin is wind-bitten and weathered by the ocean and the sun, and he studies Hiccup shaking limbs with dark, apathetic eyes. "Was worried you wouldn't 'ave made it through the journey, you did not react well to our lil juice now didja?"

"The fookin' smell in 'ere," his partner, so tall his head scrapes the ceiling but with the exact same amount of muscles, exclaims, eyeing the puddle of vomit on the floor with disgust. "Nasty one, ya'are, I'll make you clean that later, by the gods I swear."

"Who are you people?!" Hiccup slurs as he's dragged out of the room, stumbling and dragging his feet as he tries to keep up with the pair. His head pounds. Neither of the deign to answer him, the tall one is still bitching about the sick and Hiccup's poor appearance. The other one, who's holding onto Hiccup by the back of his shirt, only shakes him, a fully grown man, like a misbehaving child when he keeps questioning them. "What do you want with me? I haven't done anything to you, I don't even know you! I've got nothing to give!"

"Shoulda gagged him," he comments breezily as they come to a short stairs. He can hear sea birds squawking, smells the salt in the air and he can hear a _lot_ of movement and chatter the closer he comes to the surface. The sky rumbles angrily outside. Hiccup gaps at him indignantly. "Didn't think 'e'd be such a chatterbox."

"We'll use some of da rope," his partner agrees. "I don' wan' this thing ruinin' anymore of our shi'."

Hiccup deicides to refer to them as Big and Bgger in his head, as he squirms and wriggles violently when they produce a length of rope from nowhere and start to wind the rope along his face, shoving into his biting mouth with nary a fear of injury. He snarls wordless as they silence him, humiliated and embarrassed and furious because they treat him like some object, like he's some rowdy child to be silenced and ignored. They stole him for the gods sake, they could at _least_ allow him to complain about it. 

Big and Bigger then put on arm each under his armpits, Bigger still bitching, and they hoist him up, his feet dragging against the steps. The boot covering his prosthetic pops up and away under the duress, tumbling back down the stairs, and the pair stop to stare at his leg with astonishment before looking at each other with wide eyes. 

"Was tha' there before?" Bigger asks.

"Must'a been 'cause I surely didn' do nothing to him."

"Cap'n won't be all'at pleased if we show 'im damaged goods, would 'e though?"

"He came like this, not our fault."

In-between them, Hiccup fumes. 

The light burns his eyes as they finally come above deck, the gloomy grey still too much after so many hours unconscious and then however long he was stuck below with little light. His eyes had adjusted to the dim and now they water as he dragged across the deck. His cheeks glow with embarrassment as he's dragged about like some child's doll but not a single other person on deck pays him anymore attention than just a curious and dismissive glance. They're clearly well-versed in human trafficking and kidnapping, working around Big and Bigger as they drag him to a man standing at the helm and overseeing the pirates load crates and weapons off the ship. He's a lanky man, bald and with piercing blue eyes and a grizzly scar marring the skin around his jaw and neck. He regards Hiccup's prone form like a he's a gross but interesting bug, before nodding at his leg. 

"He had two legs when he went below. What happened." His tone brokes no room for argument. 

"We reckon the other one was hidden by his boot, cap," Boss states smoothly. "I' fell off as we were takin' him up, mustn't have seen it when we first took 'im in."

"Want us to take i' away?" Bitch offers and Hiccup feels panic well up inside him. As mad as he was earlier, he really would be better off not having to hop or crawl everywhere.

'Cap' seems to consider it for a second, noting the fear in Hiccup's eyes. A cruel smile appears on his lips but he shakes his head all the same, waving them away. "Leave it for now. Let the boss see him in one piece first, maybe we can take it if he acts up. We could use the scrap metal. But for now..." That cruel smile is back again, sending nervous shivers right down his spine. "Throw 'im in with the beast, I'm sure he'd be glad to receive two of his gifts at the one time."

There's a brief pause. Then, Big says, "Right away, sir," and they're flipping so that he's being dragged backwards, forced to watch the captain grin nastily at him before he turns back to his duties. The pair are remarkably quiet as they drag him off the boat and through the docks, a light drizzle of rain starting up to accompany the sense of fear and hopelessness that's just starting to set in. Gods, Hiccup's been kidnapped. He's been _kidnapped_ by _pirates_ and he's some 'gift' for some mysterious boss man _. What's going to happen to me?!_

He's wheezing slightly, behind his makeshift gag. He's only nineteen, he just got a house of his own, on the hills near Gothi where he can help her while age finally starts to take it's toll. He hasn't even killed a dragon yet! What kind of gift is he going to be? Is it sexual? Is he going to have to fight? Where is he going? What's the beast they mentioned?! His head spins, dizzy from the possibilities and probabilities. He wants to scream.

He should scream.

It takes him a second to realise that as they get further away from the hustle and bustle of the pirates loading and unloading goods onto their ships, the world actually gets a lot quieter. It's unnerving. He cranes his neck around, taking stock of his surrounds to try and stave off the rising panic in his gut. It's a futile effort.

The sky is darkening rapidly, as it both approaches nighttime but also due to an oncoming storm; his knee aches and he can already tell it'll be a bad one. True to his gut, the rain only gets heavier by the second, the electricity in the air near tangible as he's dragged further and further into a worryingly still village. The house are no doubt those of Vikings, similar models to the ones back home, but there's no life in them. Light does not creep from the gaps in the door frames, livestock do not bleat from nearby. His limp feet drag marks into the dirt as he's moved further into up a hill. The ground is dry and lifeless, each twist and turn his captors lead him through confusing him on his position. He is lost here. 

But Hiccup has a feeling that not knowing the layout of a village is the least of his worries right now. 

Eventually, the pair stop, and Hiccup cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what lies ahead of him next. 

It's not unlike the mead hall back on Berk, great big doors carved into the mountain skin, the gods adventures and triumphs etched onto them in detail. But unlike the mead hall, these doors open slowly and heavily, only showing rows upon rows of cages, unwelcoming black shadows swallowing everything the farther in it goes. Hiccup can't even seen the back of it it's so dark. 

Neither Big nor Bigger light a torch. They just seem to stare apprehensively at the open doors, ignoring the torrent of rain and the oncoming thunder. 

"Not sure what he's thinking. This bag of bones is hardly going to last a night in there." Hiccup makes a muffled noise of protest at the referral. 

"Not our job to thin'," Bigger sighs. "Jus' our job to do."

Big hums uncertainly, then starts to mutter quietly. He doesn't recognise the language but it takes Hiccup less than a second to realise it's a prayer. 

"I almost feel sorry for you now," Bigger says and slaps Hiccup's shoulder amicably. "Yer gonna wish you were back on the ship cleanin' vomit soon."

It's instinctive, the fully body struggling as they start to head into the chamber. The further they go, the darker it gets, the more violent Hiccup becomes as he starts to scream from behind his gag. They're swearing at him, struggling to keep his writhing body under control but the fear he feels, the _terror_ that has it's grip on his heart is completely instinctual. No safe place is this quiet, or this dark. Pirates are infamous for being as brave as they are stupid and as reckless as they are blood-thirsty but the two men sound as terrified as Hiccup as they head further in, and _they_ aren't chained up. Hiccup's entire body is screaming at him. He can make out other bodies in the dim, both human and animal, but they're deathly quiet. They cower in the far corners of their cages and their cells, as close to the exit as possible. 

There's something on this island, in this room, that every living being seems to fear. 

And he's headed straight for it. 

He's dropped suddenly, in the midst of his wriggling, and then Bigger is all up in his face, snarling and gripping jaw with serrated nails. His eyes strain to make him out it's so dark. "Shut the fuck up you useless shit!" He hisses, all his rage condensed into one terrified whisper. His eyes are a dull and murky green, but Hiccup can read the nervousness in them clearly. "Make another fucking noise or try to escape one more time and I'll gut you, consequences be damned."

Hiccup stares back mutinously but, obeying, only flinches when a cage door creaks open behind him. He sucks in a breath through his nose and bites down hard on the rope. 

Bigger stares hard at something right over his shoulder, unblinking.

"Now," he barks and Hiccup doesn't even have a chance to blink before he's picked up and _thrown_ into the cage, a muffled cry leaving him as his back knocks into the sturdy metal bars, spots dancing before his eyes as his vision swims in and out of focus once again. The chains clank and tug at his skin. He's pretty sure his right ankle is bleeding now from the abuse, but he ignores it as he watches Big scramble to shut and lock the cage door before bolting out of the chamber, Bigger right on his heels. They're laughing the same relieved laughs Ruffnut and Tuffnut do when they've just narrowly avoided death once again, gotten themselves out of trouble in the nick of time. 

Silence befalls the place as the humongous doors shut behind them, leaving everything in darkness. 

Hiccup, against every instinct in his body, starts to scream. 

He screams and swears and shouts angrily as he tries to bring his hands up high enough to claw the gag from his face, fury with the demeaning state he's been left in acting up. His behaviour is nothing like the fearless Viking his village so badly wanted him to be. He's panicking, he knows, he's losing his shit as everything finally starts to set in, but he can't make himself shut up. He curses and raves behind his gag, cursing the gods, his luck, his father, his mother, his village. Everything he's ever done that has lead him to this moment, to these feelings, to this place. 

_I wished I had never been_ **_born,_** he snarls to himself, and it's to that thought that he just about manages to snag a finger in the rope and tug it down his face. 

He pants. He sucks in air like it'll be his dying breath and reluctantly, slowly allows himself to relax. The hairs on the nape of his neck are sticking straight up but he slumps to the floor all the same.

He's aware he's not alone in this cage, and that he's severely incapacitated right now, but if whatever is in here didn't do anything when he was screaming and thrashing a few seconds ago then it probably won't do anything now when he's not moving and just bleeding and crying all over the place. 

He sniffles. 

_Gods, I'm actually crying._

_I think we're allowed to cry right now,_ a part of his mind disputes. _This is stressful._

Damn right it's stressful. 

So Hiccup sits there, 

and he breathes,

and he _cries_.

And the world outside cries along with him. 

He can't see anything, not through his tears, not through the darkness. His wrists hurt and his head is pounding and his ankle hurts. Not to mention the number of times his head has been battered and knocked about, he's surprised he's not braindead. The skin from his knee aches from where his prosthetic is digging into it and he just _knows_ he's going to have countless blisters in about a days time if he doesn't get time to take it off. He can hardly see anything in this cage, so he doesn't dare try and move. He'd feel a lot safer curled up in some corner but beggars can't be choosers and who-or-what-ever else is in here might be territorial and protest to Hiccup trying to make himself comfortable. He's always been better with animals than with people, and he prefers them all the same, so if it is some animal he's in with, whether it a particularly aggressive goat or a rare wolf, he'd rather stay on it's good side. 

He's _exhausted_. 

With panic in his chest, and tears in his eyes, Hiccup falls asleep, sprawled against the dirt floor.

* * *

Hiccup wakes up to hot breath on the back of his neck, and something strong and heavy pressing down hard against his back. 

Consciousness hits him like a truck, nothing like the slow and sluggish awareness that came to him on the pirate ship. He's on his stomach, he notes, restrained limbs crushed beneath his own body weight as something, a normal animal he hopes, snuffles and prods at his body. Hot breath showers the back of his neck, ruffling his half-dried hair, sending barely suppressed shivers down his spine. Ironically, it takes all the strength left in his battered body to _not_ tense up -- unless some feral human is doing this to him, Hiccup has a feeling it's just some curious animal that will leave him alone once it's figured out he's harmless. 

Sharp claws dig into his spine as another leg joins the one on his back, the creature putting more pressure on him, as if testing his durability. Hiccup wheezes quietly, cheek scraping against the concrete floor, fingers twitching. But Hiccup is skilled at playing dead thanks to years of one-sided 'play' fights with Snotlout -- he's pretty sure he can trick an animal, no matter how smart it may be. 

And then, the body pushing down on him disappears. 

Hiccup chokes on a sigh of relief when he feels a tug on the back of his shirt and he's being dragged away from the safety of the metal walls, further into the darkness of the cell. He makes an aborted grab for one of the bars, fingers just about brushing it before there's a low snarl behind him and he's pulled backwards with twice as much speed and force as before. 

"Oh gods, oh fuck," he whispers, suddenly abandoning the 'peaceful dead' plan and trying to wriggle free quick enough to catch a glimpse of whatever else is in here with him so he can find out a way to stop it from eating him or anything else it may want to do to him. His wrists are bruising from the chains, the cuts on his ankles screaming at him, but he tries to full-body crawl away from the beast, throwing a half-assed kick backwards to try and encourage it to release him. Hiccup has little to no experience with animals apart from the livestock on Berk, he's only seen cats and dogs in passing, so he hopes to hell that whatever this is is a herbivore. An easily startled herbivore. 

_Not with our luck_ , his mind snorts. 

He gets only a small amount of space between him and the gods-damned creature behind him before he's gasping for breath as what feels like ten Vikings lie across him and pin him down, a fierce snarl coming from the creature behind him. He blinks through the discomfort, craning his neck against all the weight and pressure, and tries to meet eyes with the beast. 

Poisonous green eyes stares back at him, two dangerously slit pupils staring right into his very soul. He sees pitch black scales that blend perfectly into the shadows, hiding the rest of it's body, rendering all save for it's eyes invisible to him as it pulls it's lips back to snarl, straining against the leather muzzle on it's face to reveal rows upon rows of dagger-like teeth. Hot, fishy breath wafts into his face, drool dripping down it's maw, as the dragon regards him out of the corner of it's eye, the rest of it's body slowly grinding him into the stone floor of his cell. 

Hiccup's brain is fried, burning up and shriveling like a house that underwent Thor's mighty wrath. 

_They put me in here with a dragon. Oh by Freyja's good name, they threw me in here with a **dragon**. _

His mind is racing, running a mile a minute as he attempts to put a name to the dragon -- if he can figure out what it is, maybe he can utilise it's weak points, finally put all those wasted years of dragon training and dragon killing lessons to _use-_

"HEY!"

Those bright green eyes disappear, and Hiccup is left gasping for breath he can't hold as the world starts to flood with light -- he can hear rapid footsteps, see the warm light of torches fight the shadows in the distance and there's shouting as people start to near the cell he's in. There's bellows, and the dragon is releasing muffled shrieks from behind it's muzzle as it thrashes about, crashing against the bars and fighting hard to attack the nearing men through the bars. As the light's draw nearer, he's given more to work with; a slim and sleek outline, black all over, powerful back legs and surprisingly agile forelegs that smack a man who manages to get too close. The sudden chaos and noise grates on Hiccup's ears and he flattens himself to the floor to duck under a wild whip of the dragon's long tail. 

"I _told_ you not to put him in the cage!" Someone roars. 

"How are we meant to get him to boss if he's stuck in there?!" Another asks.

"Poor bastard's going to get torn to pieces the second we look away."

"Dragon can't open it's mouth, though."

"It has got claws, you buffoon."

Just quick as it was gone, the dragon is back, rolling him and nudging him back further into the cage with it's head and claws, snorting at his shouts, a sound that's almost like laughter coming from deep within it's throat as the pirates panic watching Hiccup is get tossed and shoved about without care. 

"Sure, wouldn't it be better to just let 'im die?"

"Not got much use for him alive, yanno."

"The bossman wants him alive so he will stay alive!"

Hiccup knows dragons aren't stupid creatures, 19 years of weekly raids will teach you at least a thing or two, but he's still in shock at how quickly the creature address the situation. It realised the men were here for Hiccup, understood they wanted him alive, and noticed how they reacted when he appeared to be in danger. And now it's using him as _leverage_ , hunched over his body with an air of smugness, digging it's claws into his shoulders to elicit a pained yelps from Hiccup anytime a pirate draws near to the doors of the cage. 

"Please," Hiccup wheezes. "I don't want to- please for all that is blessed-"

"Fucking Night Furies," a voice mutters, just loud enough for Hiccup to catch, and he has half the mind to just burst into tears all over again. 

Fantastic. He's been kidnapped, chain, tossed around, embarrassed and humiliated, and now he's trapped in a cage with the one dragon that no Viking on Midgard would dare to fight. He's seen the damage they can do during raids, he used to have nightmares about the stories his father used to tell him, about how merciless and ferocious the unholy offspring of lightning and death could be, back when he was little. 

He might be having a panic attack. He's unsure. 

He knows he's getting really tired of crying, though, so he just sniffles into the dirt and closes his eyes, hoping it'll all end soon. _I'm too young to_ die.

The pirates' shouts have quieted into discontent murmurs, arguing rapidly with each other in a language Hiccup can't quiet recognise. He cranes his neck to try and see, maybe guess what they're discussing, but the dragon drops a heavy paw on his head and rumbles in warning. Hiccup flops back to the floor. 

The dragon almost hums, satisfied, and then it settles itself more comfortable atop him, placing it's legs on either side of his curled form, curling it's tail around his feet and settling lower until it's chest is brushing against the back of his head, heat radiating from every inch of it's skin. It's wings are still flared, he can see from the shadows, but they're curled in close enough to not take up all the room in the cell and to keep them far from any immediate harm. He's read about Night Furies supposedly having some of the toughest skin in the realm but it never hurts to be cautious, he supposes. 

_I'm going insane._

He's not sure how long it takes, but the pirates must reach a decision, because they come near again, ignoring the Night Fury's snarling and attaching hooks and chains to the bars of the cage, shaking all the while. It's really hard to figure out what's going on when the dragon won't even let him turn his head, but he can guess from the clanking of the chains, the slap of nervous hooves on the floor, and all that barked orders that they're moving the cage. And definitely _not_ separating him from the Night Fury, he thinks glumly, fingers twitching as hot breath ruffles his hair. He gasps and flinches as the whole cage jolts, metal screeching as it is wheeled slowly along and towards the outside; he shivers as he stares wide-eyed out the bars on the left, the only side he can see, and meets eyes with other humans in cages near, similarly locked up, side by side with exotic animals and creatures. They must be from all around the world, different skin colours, appearances, cultures and languages spilling over as they call out to him, whining for help or staring him down with eyes of prayer and pity. 

_What in Odin's name is going on here?_

"Y'know," Cap says, appearing alongside side the cage, just in Hiccup's limited view, "When I threw you in there, I was hoping you wouldn't last the night. Should have known any spawn of Stoick's would be as stubborn as him." He grins, teeth sharp and eyes cold. "But there's still time, right? Every beast has got to eat and this one hasn't fed in _days._ I'm sure it would appreciate a snack."

If Hiccup could, he would share with him a few choice hand gestures. Chained up and squashed down as he is, he settles for scowling instead. 

The village is as dead and still as it was when Hiccup was dragged through it first, the pirates fearful chatter dropping into a solemn silence. He tries his best to just breathe and keep himself in check as much as he can with a dragon atop him. He truly can't figure out what he's here for, why they went out of their way to kidnap him specifically and bring him here -- Stoick's son he may be, but his heir? 

Not anymore. 

But if they don't know that...

 _Oh gods,_ he realises with a jolt. _They're going to try to use me as leverage for some- some **deal!** And they think it'll work because they think I'm his only heir and son! _

He closes his eyes, swearing softly. Son he may be, but between a one-legged, dishonored heir of a blacksmith, and the safety and security of a whole village? His father will pick the village, no problem. He's always been a chief before a father. And his real heir is one of Berk's greatest warriors, he wouldn't risk her for anything -- Astrid Hofferson is one of the greatest things to ever happen to Stoick the Vast in decades, and ironically the worst thing to happen to Hiccup in. Well. In his entire life, really. 

_And to think I'm in love with her too,_ he thinks sarcastically to himself. _Irony at it's finest._

When he blinks his eyes back open, they're in the centre of what he assumes to be the village square, surrounded on all sides by what feels like hundreds of pirates, each as scarred and tattooed as those behind them. They keep a wide berth from the cage, hands never leaving their swords, but only a few spare Hiccup a glance; most seem more focused on the Night Fury crouched above him, or are staring straight ahead at something he can't see. Hesitantly, curiosity guiding him, he lifts his head to catch a glimpse, chin digging into the dirt. This time the Night Fury doesn't reprimand him. 

The cage has been set before a rock-carved podium, high enough to bring attention to the man upon it, but far away enough that Hiccup isn't going cross-eyed trying to focus. There are carvings of ships upon it, depicting storms, sea monsters, pirates raids and victories. It's unfinished but bound to be a wonder to look at, but it's the marble carved throne on it that truly catches Hiccup's attention. And sitting on the throne, a glimmering gold crown on his head, and a dastardly smile on his face, is a man. There is a man, he thinks.

There is a _king._

"Welcome, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III, to No-Man's Land. My name is Xavier but to you?"

He rises from his throne, the pirates dropping to their knees before him, proffering their swords in the air. The dragon hisses.

"To you, I am the Pirate King."

_Oh Thor._

**Author's Note:**

> i rlly like aus where hiccup and toothless meet under different circumstances but still form their legendary man-dragon bromance. so here is one of my own
> 
> the differences between canon hiccup (from the movies/tv series bc im sorry but ive never read the books) and this hiccup are gonna be revealed later on through out the story as i figure out where im going but u can try and figure stuff out as u read -- dont think im being subtle rlly lol
> 
> and if ur curious; the title means 'seaweed' (sorta) as gaeilge :] only chose it bc the song is stuck in my head as i type this
> 
> [i would make this anonymous, as someone is prolly thinking, or save it else where, as someone else is prolly thinking but (a) idk how (b) i am lazy and it is 2am. maybe tomorrow]
> 
> hmu if u see spelling/grammar mistakes. deuces, Dec


End file.
